The Swear Jar
by airyclaire
Summary: Drabble collection. Most recent: Amy likes Ian's reading glasses a little too much.
1. In Bruges

Welcome to _The Swear Jar_!

Aka: "The Tumblr Fandom is Crazy" drabble collection.

To explain, the 39 Clues fandom on Tumblr is a very close-knit group (I mean, _close_; there are only about ten of us), and we have a 39 Clues roleplay. In that roleplay, for some reason, we have a "swear jar" and we enjoy threatening each other with it when someone curses.

So, really, the drabbles don't have much to do with cursing, though they might feature the odd curse word here and there.

Anyway, author's note over. Enjoy the drabbles!

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing.

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><p><strong>Title:<strong> In Bruges

**Pairing:** Jake Rosenbloom/Amy Cahill, established relationship

**Rating:** K+

**Warnings:** Gratuitous historical facts about random statues in small European cities?

**Requested by:** Kassidy

xx

"We shouldn't be in here!" He whispered as she tugged him along.

"You said you wanted to see it up close." She glanced around, "There's no one here and we've already disabled the security."

They stood in the Church of Our Lady in Burges, staring at the face of Michelangelo's Madonna.

"Wow." Jake breathed, "it's even more amazing."

"Of course it is," Amy smiles, "because now you can be only two feet away instead of the required 15."

When Mark Rosenbloom announced his conference in Belgium, both Jake and Atticus immediately asked if they could bring guests to stay with them. Atticus invited Dan, and, of course, Jake invited his girlfriend. While Professor Rosenbloom gave his speech, his children explored the old city of Burges. Atticus played impromptu tour guide while Dan made fun of the teenaged couple tagging along behind them.

When Jake complained about the distance they were forced to maintain in the Church of Our Lady, Amy decided to take him back after everyone had gone home. After all, what better reason to put your breaking-and-entering skills to the test than art appreciation?

Jake peered up at the Virgin Mary, "You know, Atticus's mom was Catholic."

Amy nodded.

"But he's never had much interest in being Catholic himself." He looked back at his girlfriend, "we should probably get out of here."

"You don't want to spout historical facts at me first?" She grinned up at him.

Jake smirked, "OK, maybe just one."

"I knew you couldn't keep it to yourself."

"Nope," He kissed her hand, "I'm much too full of myself for that."

She rolled her eyes, but allowed him to lift her up to sit on the barrier surrounding the alter.

"In 1944, the Nazis stole the Madonna." He kissed her left cheek, then her right, "They smuggled her in-between mattresses in a Red Cross truck."

"But the allies found her two years later," He kissed her neck, "then in 1972, a mentally disturbed geologist attacked her counterpart in Vatican City."

"The Virgin Mary that's missing a nose?" Amy asked.

He nodded, his face close to hers, "that's why security is so tight here."

Right before his lips touched hers, a shout rang from the outside of the church.

"Did you hear that?" Amy whispered, lowering herself from the alter.

A flashlight beam came into view and a voice yelled out, "Qui est là?"

Jake grabbed her hand, "What do we do?"

"What do you think?" She tugged on his arm, "RUN!"

"Why do I continually let you drag me into these messes?" He huffed as they rounded the corner, now several minutes away from the security guard.

She shrugged, "Because you love me?"

"Hard to argue with that logic…"


	2. Normalcy

**Title:** Normalcy

**Pairing:** Evan/Amy

**Rating:** K+

**Requested by:** Kassidy

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><p>"Remember when Mrs. Forrester kicked us out of the library?" Evan laughs as he runs his fingers through his girlfriend's hair.<p>

She giggles and her cheeks redden, "That's not easy to forget…"

Dan lifts his head up from the video game he'd been playing intently, "Woah, _you_ got in trouble? What, were you rearranging the books?"

Amy's blush deepens at the same time Evan grins.

"Nope," he says, "we were making out in the non-fiction section."

"Eww," Dan sticks out his tongue like he tasted something awful, "you guys are _disgusting_!"

The two teenagers on the couch laugh at his facial expression, and Dan scrunches his face even more.

"I'm never going to be like you two," He shakes his head for effect, "_Nev-er_."


	3. Phone

I figured this was due for an update :)

x

**Pairing:** Hamilton/Sinead.

**Prompt:** Phone.

For Sarah.

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><p>Ring, ring, ri—<p>

"Hello?"

"Hi."

"Holt?"

"Yeah, hey."

"…right. What's up?"

"I need your help with something."

"OK. What is it?"

"What's the square root of 484?"

"…I am _not_ your calculator, Holt."

"Please? I took mine apart to use the batteries."

"Fine. It's 22."

"Great, thanks."

"…why are you doing homework at five-thirty in the morning anyway?"

"Oh, I'm not."

"Then why did you need to know the square root of 484?"

"…"

"Hamilton?"

"I just, um, wanted to talk to you."

"…at five-thirty?"

"Well, I was up training and I thought of you."

"So, you called me to ask about non-existent homework?"

"Er, yeah. I didn't know what else to say…"

"You know, despite being a genius, I'm a perfectly normal girl. You can talk to me about more than math."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"..."

"So, are we still on for our date tonight?"

"Definitely! I'll pick you at seven."

"Good, see you then."

Click.


	4. Cat People

I'm not really a Natan shipper, but I was recently introduced to the idea that it could be cute (thanks Claudia!), and this pairing was requested so I thought, "What the heck? Let's do it!" Thus, this little fic was born. Please no hate on the pairing, ok? I know Natan tends to cause a lot of controversy around these parts, but if you want to criticize something, then criticize the quality of the writing.

Thank you so much for all your kind reviews so far! Hug yourselves for me, ok? You deserve it. :)

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><p><strong>Title: <strong>Cat People

**Pairing:** Dan/Natalie, established friendship (relationship?)

**Rating:** K+

xx

As soon as Dan looked at her with those green, green eyes, Natalie understood why her brother was so besotted with Amy. Those jade eyes were still so innocent, even though they had seen such terrible things. They weren't hardened like Natalie's dark irises. They didn't carry the hate, or destruction hers did.

Those eyes only carried hope.

And, right now, that hope was the pleading in Dan's eyes—and the tiny kitten in his hands.

"No way, Daniel."

"But – but look at him!"

Dan held up the little black puffball and Natalie noticed how big the thing's eyes were—and how _green_. So much like _his_. She felt herself giving in…

Then, she sneezed, and the spell was broken.

"I said_ no_."

"Oh, come on!" Dan continued to shove the kitten at her, "It's not as if you can't take your allergy meds."

Both boy and feline stared at her with large, dopey eyes, and she sighed. _Damn them_.

"Fine. You can get the horrid thing," she wrinkled her nose, "but it sleeps outside!"

But Dan didn't hear a word beyond 'fine.' He was too busy cooing over the kitten, and grinning in triumph at his victory.

"Maybe it _is_ kind of cute," Natalie mumbled to herself— though whether it was about the cat or the boy, one may never know.


	5. Arthur

**Pairing:** One-sided Vikram/Hope

**Rating:** K

**Prompt:** Arthur

For Makaria/Adrianna

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><p>Just as Hope predicted, the first words out of Isabel's mouth were, "Let me see the ring."<p>

Hope held out her hand for her to examine, and smiled at the other woman's fiancé. Vikram Kabra almost never smiled at anyone, at least not genuinely, but around Hope his eyes always seemed softer. But the way he looked at her now—with tired eyes, the corners of his mouth forced into a grim line—was puzzling. He appeared distressed, nothing like his usual composed self. Hope decided to drop the matter, but couldn't help notice how Vikram never once looked at _his_ glowing fiancée during dinner, preferring instead to glare at _hers_.


	6. Poison

**characters/pairing: **Sinead, Ian, mentions of Evan and Amy.

**rating:** K+

**prompt:** iTunes Shuffle _(Skinny Genes – Eliza Doolittle)_

AN: The song is actually about a love/hate relationship, so this drabble should have gone in an entirely different direction. Oh, well.

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><p>"You have got to stop this."<p>

Ian looked up from the Dostoyevsky novel in his lap at the glaring girl-genius leaning over him.

"What are you talking about, Starling?"

"Don't play dumb, _Kabra_." She shut the book, almost slamming the hard cover on Ian's hand, and yanked it away from him.

He raised an eyebrow, "I don't think Amy would be very happy with the way you're treating her books."

"Yeah?" She perched herself on the arm of his chair, glowering, "I don't think she'd be very happy with the way you're treating her boyfriend."

"No one told me I had to like him."

"No one told you to try and poison him either!"

"Oh, for god's sake," He rolled his eyes, reaching for _Notes from Underground_, "It was only ipecac!"


	7. Asleep

**characters/paring: **Amy and Sinead, mentions of Ian

**rating: **K+

**prompt: **iTunes Shuffle _(Asleep – The Smiths)_

AN: Most of these drabbles/oneshots are already written and just being posted here for the first time. So, if you want to make requests, I'd be glad to take them. No matter how weird ;D

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><p>"I'm worried about Ian," Sinead's eyebrows furrowed as she leaned closer to the computer screen, "I think he has insomnia."<p>

Amy blinked, confused, "What are you talking about?"

The redheaded Ekat sighed, "He hasn't been sleeping. You must have noticed."

Amy nodded, thinking of when she'd spoken to him the previous day. There had been dark circles under his eyes, but she just figured he'd been monitoring the comm. center late at night.

_He's more worried about Natalie than he lets on, _she thought. _She's all he has…_

"On a scale of 1 to extremely pissed off," Sinead's voice jerked Amy from her reverie, "how angry do you think he'd be if I drugged his tea?"


	8. Popcorn

**Characters/Pairing:** Hope Cahill and Isabel Vesper-Hollingsworth

**Rating:** K+

**Prompt:** Popcorn

**Warni****ngs:** Um, AU where Hope and Isabel are college roommates?

A/N: Happy Single's Awareness Day! (I'm not Catholic, so I don't celebrate St. Valentine's day ;D)

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><p>"What are you laughing about?"<p>

Isabel watches from the sofa as Hope, overcome with giggles, pours popcorn into a bowl—half of the puffed kernels ending up on the counter.

"Really, what's so funny?"

Hope shakes her head, auburn waves falling out of her slept-on French braids. Compared to Isabel—sleek ebony hair, face devoid of make-up but lacking Hope's dark shadows—Hope's disheveled state is unflattering to say the least.

"I was just thinking," Hope says, handing her roommate the popcorn bowl before plopping herself on the sofa, "It's Valentine's Day…"

Isabel raises her eyebrows, "And this is funny because…?"

"We're spending it together…watching horror movies," Hope grins, "it's like watching love _die_. Over and over and over again."

"This is amusing to you?" Isabel pauses for a moment, her manicured fingernails holding a single piece of popcorn up to her lips, "Wait—you're not a necrophiliac or a haemotolangic are you?"

Hope stares at her for a second before dissipating into that _ludicrous_ giggling once more. Isabel rolls her eyes and tries hard not to smile at the woman next to her—though she's acting more like a six-year-old at a cinema than a college student.

"What would it matter if was, hm?" Hope pokes her side, "_you're_ not dead…or _are_ you?"

She wiggles her eyebrows at Isabel, making such a ridiculous face that Isabel's lips quirk up before she realizes.

"You're turning me into a sap."

"No, no, not a sap—" Hope winks at Isabel, "a _human being_."


	9. Innocent

**characters/paring: **Jake Rosenbloom, Amy Cahill

**rating: **K+

**warnings:** Mild spoilers for_ The Dead of Night_.

A/N: I was supposed to be writing post-DoN Ian/Amy, but this happened instead. Enjoy!

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><p>If you looked up the word <em>'good girl'<em> in the dictionary, you would find a picture of Amy Cahill.

Sure, she's stolen and lied her way across the world. Threatened and injured would-be attackers, and the occasional well-intentioned jerk. (And once, she almost slapped her little brother—_almost_.)

But when someone is terrorizing your family members, can you really be blamed for immoral actions?

Jake Rosenbloom had seen Amy Cahill and her brother, Dan, commit several international crimes during the past week—he had even _helped_ them. Yet, somehow he still couldn't view her as a felon. Dan, maybe. (Jake wasn't sure if he liked the kid or not; he didn't seem to be the best influence on Atticus.)

But Amy?

He watched her lips silently mouth the words on the computer screen she'd been staring at for the past hour. She hadn't moved from that spot on the sofa since she began researching the Jubilee. Her hair was falling out of the braid it had been in the day before and she was clearly wearing her brother's pajamas. (At least, Jake found it highly doubtful that _she_ would own Pokémon pajama pants.)

There was nothing about this girl that screamed "CRIMINAL."

Afterall, what criminal mastermind had freckles, or a tendency to blush at the worst moments? Or could rattle off historical facts in a way that rivaled even Atticus' incessant babbling?

Jake was pretty sure that none of those things were very common in evil geniuses.

He took one last look at her only to find that _she _was studying _him_. Their eyes locked and he smiled at her, hoping he wouldn't come off as a creep for staring. Her cheeks took on a rosy hue and she immediately went back to looking at her computer screen. But this time, a small smile appeared on her lips as she began to read again.

In that moment, Jake Rosenbloom decided that even though she may be wanted by Interpol, the police forces of several countries, and plenty of murderous enemies, Amy Cahill was innocent.


	10. Stars

**character/pairing:** Dan, Jake/Amy.

**rating:** T, for mild language.

**prompt:** Stars.

**warning:** Slight spoilers for DoN (yes, I have read it), but nothing spoiler-y plot-wise. You should be safe on that front.

for Michaela, my favorite hardcore Jake/Amy (Jamy?) shipper. I hope you enjoy this! :)

* * *

><p>Dan Cahill was not happy. He knew where this was going. He'd seen the signs before. It was almost like a disease. It caused flushed cheeks, shortness of breath, and a rapid heartbeat, the same symptoms of an asthma attack.<p>

But the subjects experiencing these symptoms were not asthmatics. They were teenagers. With hormones. Which, in Dan's opinion, was even scarier than not being able to breath.

Watching his sister—once again—turn into a love-alien was a horrifying sight.

But the worst part? It wasn't just Amy this time. There existed a second party to this madness—

Jake Rosenbloom.

Dan had tried to get along with Atticus' brother, and even though Jake had been a great help, he definitely wasn't Dan's favorite person. The older Rosenbloom was too protective, too high-strung—for god's sake, even _Amy_ wasn't that anal!

But now, he disliked the older boy for an entirely different reason.

The jerk wouldn't stop flirting with his sister.

Jake knew she a boyfriend, so why couldn't he just leave her alone? Dan tried not to care, but then she started reacting to this disgusting display of teenage emotions—and she _wasn't_ repulsed by it!

On the contrary, she seemed to _enjoy_ it. And Dan could not be in support of that.

It took everything in him not to puke at the sight of Jake and Amy researching the Jubilee—heads together, the sides of their bodies touching. There was too much giggling and unnecessary hand grazing, more than he'd seen his sister do with Tolliver.

And Dan swore he saw Jake glance down his sister's shirt a few minutes before.

Not that he cared, of course. Amy could handle herself. But, _still_, it was just so gross! Dan would have rather watched his sister fall all over _Ian Cobra_, than lust after this blockhead.

Though, she seemed to be happy, and Jake wasn't complaining about everything for once. In fact, he hotel room was strangely quiet, aside from the occasional whispering coming from the ultra-nerds on the sofa.

Dan still didn't like the way Jake looked at Amy when her back was turned. Almost like he had stars in his eyes at the sight of her. Dan really didn't think his sister was _that_ impressive. Sure, she might be pretty in a super smart bookworm way—if you liked that kind of thing—but what was so special about her that guys fell over backwards for her attention?

First, the Cobra. Then, the Geek. And now, the Jerk.

Dan knew the reason guys were usually attracted to certain girls. He was in eighth grade, after all. The boys that sat around him in class would spend most of the period talking about girls—and it wasn't their personalities that the boys liked. These girls wore short skirts and too much make-up. They were the ones who hooked with guys in the locker room and in their older siblings' cars.

Was his sister secretly like that, too? Or did guys like Jake like her because she _wasn't_ one of those girls?

He didn't know which one he disliked more—the idea that his older sister was a slut, or that she was the good-girl that everyone wanted to corrupt.

Dan shuddered as the soft sound of Amy's giggling mingled with Jake's deep laughter. He supposed that, in the end, it really didn't matter—he trusted Amy.

But Dan decided he would keep an eye on Jake. Especially on the older boy's hands. If they touched his sister anywhere below the shoulders, Dan would be forced to unleash his ninja powers.

After all, _someone_ had to keep Amy's dignity intact.


	11. Jubilee

**rating:** K+

**warnings:** spoilers for Dead of Night and speculation for Shatterproof.

**A/N:** The Jubilee is on display with the crown jewels of Thailand, so that's what I went with here. I don't actually know what country they'll be in.

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><p>When they have the Jubilee in their grasp there's a small moment of celebration.<p>

The heist had been the most difficult task V1 had sent for them yet. They were already exhausted, in every sense of the word, but when they escaped Royal Thai Palace security and were safely in their hotel room, they collapse on the floor.

Dan is the first to laugh.

(The situation is just too ridiculous not to.)

Here they were, three teenagers and a prepubescent prodigy, _the master thieves_, with the largest diamond in the world in a backpack between Dan's dirty laundry—

Interpol be damned.


	12. Stuck

A/N: I really enjoy writing about the Rosenblooms, apparently :)

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><p>It was almost like Stockholm Syndrome.<p>

Jake and Atticus weren't bound and gagged to stay with the Cahills, but they felt an obligation to help. It was strange how one moment of emergency could bring people together.

When Atticus was kidnapped, Jake knew the only way to get him back was to trust the Cahills. No matter how much he wanted to blame them, he knew it wasn't their fault. He could see that they didn't agree, however.

Amy's screaming for Atticus, her voice growing hoarse as angry tears crept down her face, showed Jake that his brother was more than just a piece in whatever sick game their family was trapped in.

And Dan.

_Dan_.

Atticus' only true friend.

The way the younger boy had taken to saying only necessary words to his sister and Jake, spending most of his time in his hotel room staring at the ceiling, proved his loyalty to Atticus.

And, so the Rosenblooms were stuck.


	13. Save your soul

_She just might get you lost, and she just might leave you torn, but she just might save your soul._  
>—Dashboard Confessional, "Rooftops and Invitations"<p>

xx

She is not your light, your love. She does not own your heart (not yet). But she is the bright spot in your dark night, and you know that wherever she exists so do you.

You wish you knew why she was brought to you (or you to her), for she has lost herself in your labyrinth called 'life' and you never want her to find her way out.

Or maybe you are the one who is lost. After all, she seems to know the way to freedom. Then why is she still here? You wonder. And wonder. And wonder. In fact, that is your main state around her—wonder. She is faith, forgiveness, and fairy dust, goodness personified, even though she vehemently denies it (for no one is perfect, she says).

Her actions are perplexing to you. You cannot understand how she finds little things such as lightning (it startles her, but she sits in front of the window nonetheless), and the life cycle of butterflies ("they only live for a few weeks during the summer. can you imagine a life so ephemeral?") so fascinating. You watch her eyes shine (never sparkle) and make note of how your lips tug upward at her childlike glee. When she smiles you feel as if spiders are crawling up your veins, and it is not at all unpleasant. She is the only one who has ever caused such strange reactions in you.

She insists that you are also good. Like the monster whose heart was three sizes too small, yours just needs time to grow. Maybe you believe her, or maybe you just want to believe. You feel as if your sin is attracted to her purity, feeding off of it like a parasite. Yet, she does not seem to lose any light, for she is always glowing.

In your mind, she is yours (even when she is not). You grew up with the notion that everything, and everyone, can be bought for the right price. But she comes with no pricetag. She is not a prize either, because there exists no game you can play to win her. She cannot be impressed, or wooed, but she could be yours, in a way. But for her to become yours, you would have to be hers. You do not know how to belong to someone, with someone, but for her you would try.

She is not your Princess, but your White Knight, for she is the one saving you.

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><p>AN: This was written to go with a graphic on Tumblr and was only supposed to be about 100 words, but I guess it grew! :) I really liked it, and I haven't added anything to this in a while, so I thought I'd post it.

Just to clarify, this_ is_ indeed Ian/Amy.


	14. Microfics

**A/N.** It's been awhile since I've updated so I thought I'd post some microfics I wrote today. Microfics are a meme (on Tumblr) where you write a few lines of fic based on a genre. It's spawned a few longer fanfics as well, so it's brilliant practice. I hope you enjoy these :)

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><p>Microfics; Arthur TrentHope Cahill

x

**Romance.**  
>They get married on a whim while in India, with an old Hindu healer presiding over the ceremony; Hope has flowers in her hair, sunburnt cheeks, and dirt on her white dress, and, to her new husband, she's never looked more beautiful.<p>

**Hurt/Comfort.**  
>Their first child only lives for three months in utero, and Hope won't get out of bed to see the doctor, even with all the blood over the sheets she won't budge, so Arthur just picks her up, runs a hot bath, and holds her while she cries – the doctor can wait.<p>

**Fluff.**  
>Hope's karaoke song is <em>Do You Want To Touch Me?<em> by Joan Jett and she belts it out in way that would make Ms. Jett proud – and make everyone in the room give an emphatic "YES," but unfortunately for the crowd, the russet wildchild is already taken.

**Angst.**  
>He watches his daughter laugh, jade eyes sparkling just like her mother's, and for a moment he believes she actually <em>is<em> Hope.

**AU.**  
>He soon realizes taking the fire-head demon (as his crew has affectionately come to call the lass) abroad his ship was the maddest decision he ever made – after all, she's only been there for a few days and already they've had the worst possible luck...but, he supposes, the crew has also never been more lively.<p>

**Friendship.**  
>After she accidentally pushes him into the pit ("you are aware that's full of human bones, right?"), she buys him Turkish ice cream from a street vendor, hoping to help him forget the incident; he gets her back later when he conveniently forgets to tell her about the sink hole.<p> 


	15. Fatherly Advice

I haven't posted anything in this collection in a while, so when I found this on my blog the other day I decided to upload it here.

Mild spoilers for the Dead of Night.

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><p><em><strong>Fatherly Advice<strong>_, Ian Kabra & Arthur Trent

xx

The text message said to meet by the dock at eight, but it was already thirty minutes past and Ian was still alone.

"This was useless," he said aloud, leaning back against the log pillar. A least it wasn't a trap. He was an idiot for going alone, though.

"You'll rethink that statement when you leave here, I think."

Ian almost fell into the water at the sound of the disembodied voice. He quickly regained his composure and stood up straight, waiting for the man to come out of the shadows.

"I've actually wanted to meet you for a while now," the voice came again, the man slowly moving into view.

Ian peered into the darkness, trying to make out if the man was a threat. He was tall, dressed casually, with dark blond hair streaked grey. His face seemed familiar to Ian, but he couldn't quite place it until the man introduced himself.

"Arthur Trent, at your service," he said tipping an imaginary hat towards the shellshocked Lucian.

"But…" Ian's mouth failed him and he continued to stare at this supposed deadman, a million questions running through his head.

Arthur laughed and clapped a hand on Ian's shoulder, "Question and answer time will come later," then his face grew serious, "first, I have something you want."

He lifted his hand off Ian's shoulder and dug a small object out of his jeans.

"A flash drive?" Ian looked it over as Arthur placed it in his hands. Nothing out of the ordinary about it either. Bought from any electronics store.

"What's on it?" He questioned, sangfroid attitude intact once more.

Arthur shrugged, as if it were nothing, "just some photos that might interest you."

He sighed, leaning against the log Ian had vacated, "Do me a favor, though, and only show them to my daughter. I don't think Danny could handle it right now."

"He been drifting for a while," he continued, almost as if Ian wasn't even there, "I've been keeping a close eye on him."

Ian frowned, "You've been spying on your children?"

"Oh, don't act like you _haven't_," Arthur smirked at him, "I recall more than just me tagging along on my daughter's first date."

Ian blanched, "I was tailing Tolliver, making sure he wasn't after the clues."

"Of course you were," Arthur winked at him, "which is why your hand stayed on your gun while they kissed on the front steps."

Ian did not remember seeing anyone else trailing him (or the _happy couple_) that night. Though, he was a bit distracted…but he was still trained to spot these kinds of things. Yet another Cahill had gotten the better of him. Obviously, there was no hiding anything from this man. No wonder the Vespers recruited him. No wonder Hope Cahill married him.

No wonder Amy and Dan missed him so much.

"I like you better, ya know."

Ian blinked at his words, and tilted his head towards the man, "Better than whom?"

"Evan Tolliver," Arthur grinned, all too much like his son, "isn't good enough for my baby."

"You, however," he paused, studying Ian's confused features, "might be worth her heart."

Sensing a trick, Ian's eyes narrowed, "What do you mean?"

"I mean," Arthur began, looking pointedly at the 16-year-old, "that you really need her."

"I don't _need_ anyone," Ian sneered, his voice lacking the venom he wanted, "much less Amy."

"I think you do, and I think she needs you, too."

"I think you're—what?"

"Oh, would you look at the time," Arthur bowed jokingly towards the baffled boy, "we'll finish this chat later, your highness."

And as quickly as he had come, the man disappeared into the black night, leaving Ian alone, flashdrive forgotten in his hand, with thoughts of a certain green-eyed girl. Thoughts that weren't altogether unpleasant.

In fact, they were rather_ lovely_.


	16. Wild Wild West

Whoa, it's been a while, hasn't it? I found a bunch of fics on my Tumblr that haven't been uploaded here, so expect a ton of new chapters. I'll try to be more consistent with posting here, because I know this is where most of the fans are and I write for _you_.

xo Airy

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><p>Alternate Universes I'll Never Write - <strong>Wild Wild West, Jake &amp; Amy<strong>

x

"Need help with that, ma'am?"

The voice startled her and she glanced up to see a grinning cowpoke staring down at her. He gestured to the feed bags she carried and once again offered to help.

She handed him one, but _just_ one—

"I don't _need_ your help, Jake," she told him, "but since you're offerin'…"

"Always a pleasure, Amy," he rolled his eyes and hefted the bag over his shoulders, making a show of his strength.

He had been a right pain in the neck ever since he moved into town and stuck his little brother in her schoolhouse. Amy had no trouble with Atticus—he was the most wonderful student she'd had yet—but Jake, _Jake_ was a different breed.

He was handsome, strong, and intelligent to boot. He beat the sheriff at darts and the mayor at chess, and when he won a game he treated the whole saloon to drinks. He had the entire town eating out of his hands and all the ladies (even the married folk) succumbing to his charms.

Oh, how Amy hated him.

Unfortunately, he never seemed to tire of _her_ company. Always stopping by the schoolhouse in the mornings, bringing her apples and rock candies and penny novels. The students all called him her beau, but if his desire was courtship his speech certainly didn't show it. He teased her mercilessly, about her freckled cheeks and her loose cinnamon-colored hair. He didn't sidestep or skirt around her opening doors and covering puddles. He treated her like an equal, not like a fragile schoolmarm.

Men who wished to court her treated her with such flattery that she couldn't take even an iota of it seriously. She would rather have the shameless, but truthful, flirtations of men who went to the brothels—at least they would tell her what they wanted straight.

But, instead, she had Jake, who acted like she was the sun to his blistering skin. If he would just stop bringing her that god-damn fruit and start speaking his god-damn mind already he might have a chance at having a shady afternoon.

Until then, she would make sure that she was a right pain in his tanned hide.


	17. Zombie Apocalypse

Alternative Universes I'll Never Write - **Zombie Apocalypse, Sinead & Hamilton**

x

"You shot my sister!"

the cry rings out from behind her and she barely catches a glimpse of the responsible party before she's tackled to the ground. blue eyes, blonde hair, muscles like a herculean hero. it's the boy from down the street, the high school's star quarterback. no wonder her head feels like it's being pounded with a mallet — there was sheer, brute force behind that tackle.

he gets up almost as soon as she hits the ground, nervously offering her a hand (which she promptly ignores).

"I'm sorry," he says, "I didn't mean to hurt you. I was just so…"

"Angry," she finishes for him, nodding, "I know how that feels."

"Did someone kill your family after they were infected?"

she glances back over the few dozen rotting bodies in the street and bends down to pick up the rifle she dropped when she was shoved to the ground. a sharp pain stabs into her chest and she blinks back the ocean about to spring from her eyes.

"Yes," she says finally, "I shot my brother in the head."

she turns toward the boy again, noting the way he doesn't seem at all shocked. he's heard and seen worse, just like she has.

"Here," she hands him the handgun in her jacket pocket, "strength isn't everything anymore."

he nods, accepting the gun, "can I ask you something?"

she shrugs, stepping over the disembodied head of her former science teacher — _the old bat deserved to die anyway_, she thinks.

"do you want to be alone?"

the question stops her. she's never thought about it. before this whole mess started she'd always had her brothers. but, now, she had no one.

no one but a rifle and a star quarterback with a pretty face.

"I'm on my way into the next town," she calls back, not bothering to turn to look at her new acquaintance, "you can come, if you want."

he falls into step with her a few moments later, determination in his eyes, but a smile on his lips. she attempts to smile back, but hasn't used those muscles in so long that it almost hurts.

_no_, she thinks, _I don't want to be alone_.


	18. La fille lapin

AU Request from Kassidy (_interludes_): **Jake/Amy, in a fairytale world**

x

There's a cage around her and a handsome huntsman sharpening his knife in front of her. She knows he doesn't plan on killing her; he's already promised her to his little brother, after all, but the image is still unsettling.

She glances around her at the tall trees and the beautiful sunset peeking out between their branches—

_Wait, sunset? Oh, no!_

_Perfect time to get caught, Amy, _she scowls internally, _now there's no way out_.

She waits nervously as the sun give its final bow and makes way for nightfall. Her legs begin to tingle first, then her entire body starts to shake. Soon she's surrounded by a pile of soft, brown fur, and silently thanking the gods above that the cage was meant for a large animal.

The huntsman hasn't looked up yet, but as soon as he does she knows what he'll see.

The small rabbit he caught for his brother no longer exists, but in its place a girl shivering in the cool night air.

"Excuse me?" She calls, deciding to take the direct approach before she freezes to death; she wasn't so used to being without fur.

The man looks up, surprised at the voice, and at first doesn't realize where it came from, but then he spots her. The _very naked_girl in his trap.

"Hi."

He nods at her, still perplexed at this change in events. She can almost hear the gears turning in his head—_how did _she_ get there_?

"Could you unlock me, please?" she gestures to the size of the cage, "it's a bit cramped in here."

"How did you…" he begins, reaching for the key, "I mean, you were a rabbit…"

"Yes, I was," she says, "now I'm a girl. Simple, really."

He shakes his head, bewildered, "if you say so…"

He undoes the laces on his shirt and hands it to her, turning around so she can slip it on privately. It smells like pine and she resists the urge to inhale dreamily as she puts it over her head.

The huntsman helps her to the log he'd been sitting on, her legs are still wobbly from the change, and offers her a bit of his kill—which is, thankfully, _not_ rabbit— and asks the question she'd been dreading, "Care to explain what's really going on here?"

She shrugs, "not really."

"Well, you're going to," he locks eyes with her, dark brown like his younger brother's, but menacing, almost, instead of kind, "or I'm leaving you here by yourself."

She laughs. _Does he think I can't survive on my own_? _These are _my_ woods. I belong here more than he ever will_.

"You obviously don't understand the concept of Wild Things," she laughs once more, "we are children of the forest. Nothing in here scares me."

"Perhaps not in your other form, sweetheart," he glances down her body and back up to meet her eyes, "but there are men in this glen who aren't as nice as I."

She knows he speaks truth. She had seen lecherous men in whorehouses on the outskirts of the woods. Loud, boisterous men, with no sense of right or wrong.

_'Men will hurt you,'_ Mama said, _'they will carve you up for soup, or pleasure.'_

"I'll tell you the legend if you promise to keep your original plan," she fingers the ties on his shirt, making sure everything was covered, "you will take me home to your brother."

"You'll be a rabbit by sunrise, then?"

She nods, and he accepts her deal, offering her his knife as proof of agreement.

"It begins as most legends do—with a curse."


	19. With a laugh like the flowers

**With a laugh like the flowers, Jake/Amy**

**prompt:** "Catwoman," but I obviously took some liberties with it.

**rating:** I normally don't give warnings in this collection, but this has some PG13 language. Not much, but there is enough to warrant the rating.

x

The first thing he noticed when he sat down beside her was the flowery scent rising from her hair. He recognized it easily as lavender, the flower that grew freely in the Cahills' front yard. For a moment he entertained the notion that she washed her hair with homemade shampoo direct from her garden…until she tapped him on the forehead with her pen and he snapped to reality.

"Jake, are you in there?

A teasing smile flitted across her lips, but her eyes almost seemed concerned, as if he really was far off inanother world somewhere. He supposed it was possible, after all, Atticus retreated into himself quite often, as did her brother.

Jake, however imaginative, was more fond of what was currently in front of him than what lay in his mind.

"I may have a big head, Amy," He flashed her a grin, "but I don't think I'd fit in there."

She rolled her eyes as if to say '_you're ridiculous_' and tossed her papers to the side. He caught a glimpse of the large paragraphs of scrawling cursive and realized that his first inclination was correct — she definitely did not need his help.

A loud 'thump' came from the back of the house making Amy sit bolt-upright and cock her head for more evidence of trouble. Then, another thump resounded from the hallway and Dan called out, "Nothing is broken!"

Amy sighed and let her back hit the floor, closing her eyes as if to pretend there _weren't_ two sugar-high boys making a complete mess of the back rooms.

Jake moved the rest of her forgotten papers to the couch and laid down on the carpet beside her, "Your brother is a bad influence."

She opened her eyes and he grinned to let her know that he was teasing. She smiled, "I know."

"You know?"

She nodded, turning over on her stomach, "He's even a bad influence on _me_."

She tapped her pen on the hardwood flooring, red nails flashing brightly as her fingers moved up and down. The color seemed out of place on her, almost too _femme fatale_ for a bookworm. Perhaps she was secretly leading another life like all-work-no-play Clark Kent, or the disheveled-but-sexy Selina Kyle…

"Jake?" Amy's voice saved him from furthering his Catwoman fantasy and he glanced down to see that he had subconsciously taken her hand in his.

He let go a little too quickly and felt himself blush, "Uh, sorry!"

She laughed — a sound as sweet as the flower she smelled of — and brushed a stray strand of hair behind her ear, "It's all right."

He nodded absently, still wondering how something as simple as lavender shampoo and crimson nail polish could entrance his mind so. Was it only because of the person who was wearing it?

"What were you thinking of?"

She peered up at him, her hands tucked under her chin like a curious child, which, in a way, she was just that. Sixteen still qualified as a child in Jake's opinion, no matter how much shit the world handed to her — she wasn't yet an adult.

But did that mean she would understand him if he spilled his thoughts?

"If you don't want to tell me…" she began, her eyes seeming slightly dejected.

"No, it isn't that," he shook his head, "it's just a very strange thought, is all."

Again, her gem-like eyes looked into his and he smiled, amused at her confused expression. What was the harm in being a little truthful now and then? He didn't have to confess everything. Besides, she'd never know the difference.

He cleared his throat and grinned down at her, "I was just thinking about how good you'd look in a leather catsuit."

She blinked and sputtered, "Wha-what?"

He shrugged, boyish grin still in place, "I think you'd make an excellent Catwoman."

A rosy hue appeared on her cheeks and he grinned even wider.

"Shy bookworm by day…" he continued, "seductive rouge by night."

Her pink cheeks turned a brighter red, almost like her nail polish, then she frowned.

"Catwoman is a villain."

He smirked, having already known she would say that, "I'm sure some part of you is dying to be bad, Miss Cahill."

"If I was interested in the morally grey, _Mr. Rosenbloom_," she glared at him half-heartedly, "I definitely would not tell you."

"Why?" He chuckled and reached for one of her hands, the pads of his fingers passing over the shiny red paint on her nails, "afraid I'd call the police?"

"Well, yes, actually."

He laughed again and felt his heart thump harder when she joined in. She had a nice laugh. It didn't sound like bells — like all female laughter was described in literature. Instead, it reminded him of a child's joy at being pushed on a swing — blissfully unaware that they could fall off at any moment if they were pushed too high.

Her laughter was innocent, very much like the scent of lavender floating around her. Like the blush encasing her freckled cheeks.

Like the way she bit her lips right before his touched them.

He hadn't meant to kiss her — not right now — but she was so close and her glee so infectious. It was almost as if he wanted to catch some of her happiness by pressing his mouth to hers.

He felt her smile as she slid her fingers around the back of his neck, her red nails softly parting through his hair. His heart jumped into his throat when she broke away, her fair skin still flushed pink.

"What was that for?"

He shrugged, grinning sheepishly, "Let's just say, your joy is catching."


	20. Call it what you want

**Call it what you want** - Jake/Amy, college AU

x

Their beginning is unconventional, to say the least.

They aren't best friends who suddenly fall in love, they aren't really friends all. He's just someone she exchanges pleasantries with when he picks up his brother. Someone she innocently flirts with at family birthday parties.

He's definitely not her friend.

But when he practically mows her over in the hallway of her new college dorm, she's happy to see a familiar face.

And by the tight hug he gives her (after apologizing for knocking her down), he's happy to see her, too.

x

He frequents the same coffee shop she does; in fact, she begins to think he only does it to see her.

After all, the amount of times that the two of them are present at the same time on the same day cannot be a coincidence.

She sits at the same table, drinks the same coffee (Irish Cream, non-fat milk, no sugar), but that's the only thing in order about her set-up.

The first time he sees her there, textbooks in her lap, pencil in one hand and a pen stuck in her French braid, he immediately changes his order from "to go" to "for here" and pulls up a chair next to her.

She says hello, but doesn't look at him, a smile tugging on her lips as she writes out her history essay.

He simply sips his iced tea and wonders whether it would be weird to brush her hair from her face.

(He decides that would be.)

x

They argue about the most ridiculous things.

Mostly having to do with their respective brothers and what the two of them get into.

Or, rather, what _her_ brother drags _his_ into.

But they also fight about historical facts (he's an anthropology major, too), the both of them refusing to check the answers on Google until someone admits to being wrong. Winning always comes first.

The fights end in laughter and inappropriate closeness, not yelling and tears, and usually they come to an agreement before they even have to resort to a third party.

But they're still not friends.

x

He's not her friend when she kisses him.

And she's not entirely sober either.

But she's not drunk, she insists. Still, he drags her outside to his car and says he's taking her home.

"You may not be drunk," he tells her, as she glares at him with her arms crossed, "but you're intoxicated enough that I don't trust my friends around you."

Her eyebrows rise, "And you don't trust me to be able to handle them?"

"Honestly," his face softens and so does hers in response, "I don't trust you not to do something else you regret."

A puzzled expression flickers through her eyes, so big and bright, exactly like the gemstone they resemble, and he thinks back to the soft touch of her lips on his just five minutes prior.

"What do you mean '_something else'_?" She asks so innocently that he's suddenly uncomfortable being in the tiny space with her.

"Nothing. Nevermind." He mumbles, turning the key in the ignition and putting the car in reverse.

The drive doesn't last but a few minutes, though it feels like an hour to both passengers. Neither of them says a word until he parks next to their building.

"Well—" he barely has the words out before she interrupts.

"I don't regret it."

He blinks at her, "What?"

She smiles sheepishly at him before ducking her head. Her fingers twine together as she mutters, "I _wanted_ to kiss you.

"I wanted to kiss you yesterday, too," she continues, the lightposts outside illuminating the rosy hue on her cheeks, "and the day before that, and many more before that, even."

She looks up at him, mouth slightly open as if ready to speak once more, but he's staring at her so intently that she can't seem to get the words to come out. He smiles at her then, and reaches for her jittery hands.

He nods, "I'm glad we're in agreement."

Her eyebrows furrow, "What do you mean?"

"Well," he shrugs, his fingers wrapping around hers, "I wanted you to kiss me, too."

She rolls her eyes, and he takes that moment to lean forward and press his lips to hers, preventing her soft giggles from escaping.

They only part after Campus Safety raps on the window.

And, even then, it takes ten minutes to get to her dorm room because of the kisses they each steal on the way up the stairs.

(He's still not her friend when they reach her door.)

x

They don't announce their new relationship status to anyone. Nothing has changed between the two of them, so why bother telling others that it has?

Besides, no one seems to notice anything different about them.

After all, they've always been much more than friends.


	21. Glasses

**prompt:** Amy likes Ian's reading glasses a little too much. (from )

* * *

><p>She was used to his black suits, his skinny ties, and his polished leather shoes. She could handle him shirtless and sweaty in the training room. Seeing him in jeans (still Armani, of course) was a bit of a shock at first, but now she doesn't bat an eye. He even managed to make pajamas seem normal.<p>

But nothing compared to the way she felt when she bumped into him in the library that day.

She had dropped her book and when she looked up she found herself staring into dark eyes surround by silver frames. _Reading glasses_, he said. She nodded numbly, feeling her mouth go dry.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, the corners of his eyes scrunching together behind their temporary glass windows, "Do they look that strange?"

She shook her head, her tongue feeling like she'd just come back from the Sahara—sandy acridity without hope of oasis. She tore her gaze away from his and sat down in the armchair across from his, holding her book in front of her face to discretely take peeks through the open pages.

She watched as his tongue swept out to wet his bottom lip when he turned the page, her heart thumping much too loudly for the quiet library. He looked up from his book and met her gaze, his eyebrows rising above his glasses. She gulped and quickly dipped her head to seem as if her glance was simply fleeting, an unconscious movement.

It was very hard to concentrate knowing he was just across from—

She blinked, _where had he gone_? The only thing in his chair was the book he'd been looking through. She tensed, her ears straining for the soft pad of his footsteps on the carpeted floor. He was always so damn good at disappearing during times when she preferred him to stay in one place.

"You know, you're not very subtle."

She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge at the sound of his voice next to her ear, silently cursing his ability to be so covert.

He already resembled a high-end banker rather than the overwrought 18-year-old she knew him as, but the glasses added a bit of extra intensity to his seemingly holier-than-thou attitude. He perched himself on the arm of her chair and she deliberately stared down at the book in her lap instead of up at his gold-tinted frames. His smugness practically had it's own aura, after all, there was no need to build it up any further.

"If I knew you'd react this way," he chuckled, the sound echoing deep in his throat making the back of her neck feel dangerously warm, "I would have worn my glasses sooner."

She saw him glance at his watch out of her peripherals, then curse at whatever time it showed. She almost sighed in relief at his hasty goodbye…until he turned back and _winked_ at her shamelessly.

_That bastard_.


End file.
